Blood of the Damned
by SpeckledSparrow08
Summary: Set in Curse of the Black Pearl, the story delves into the past of Captain Jack Sparrow when he sailed for the East India Company, and the secret of the fateful deal he made with Davy Jones to resurrect the Pearl. His first mate Charlie Smith is an orphan who is enlisted along with Jack to help William Turner rescue Elizabeth Swann from the very man who raised her, Hector Barbossa.
1. Chapter 1

As the scenery of Port Royal grew closer and closer, and the boat beneath Charlie Smith's feet sank lower and lower, she gave up bailing out and tossed the bucket aside into the bay's crystal blue waters. Taking hold of the rope which secured the sail, she began to climb up the mast. Near the top her boot slipped and she almost plummeted, but Jack caught her arm and let out a groan as he held her in place, letting her regain her footing and drag herself up onto the crossed beam where he stood. As she gasped and stood herself, she glanced between the cozy white buildings nestled among the mountain greenery and Captain Jack Sparrow.

His gaze was fixed on the dock, which drew closer as the water began to spill over the tiny boat's railing on one side.

"How is it," she began, "that you stumble and wobble so on land, and yet you can stand atop a ship's mast, perfectly at ease?"

His dark, coal-lined eyes turned to her. "Balance is a matter of perspective."

"A matter of perspective," she parroted in a spot-on impression. "Balance is a matter of perspective. Morality is a matter of perspective. Ownership is a matter of perspective. Is there anything finite in this world, to your eye?"

"Can't say for the world, Mate. Perception is a matter of perspective, you see."

"Aye," she agreed with an eye-roll, though she was smiling too as they each extended a leg to make the dock, and stepped in time, side by side, toward the end.

"Hold on there," a man in a powdered wig called out, and they turned to him. "It's a shilling to tie up your boat at the dock. And I shall need to know your name."

Jack glanced at the top of the mast, barely reaching out of the waves, then at his companion.

She smiled. "Well? Pay the man, Captain."

He pressed his lips into a tight line to keep from smiling. He gestured with his hands as he spoke. "Technically, Mate, that was your ship."

"Ownership is a matter of perspective," she said, and drew him closer by his coat, slipping a hand into his pocket. Her probing fingers made him straighten, his eyes widen, but she only fished out a shilling and offered it to the man.

"And a name?"

Jack smiled and offered, "Smith."

"Very well, Mr. Smith, welcome to Port Royal."

As the two pirates turned and walked toward the town, Charlie was pursing her lips so as not to smile. "Really? Mr. Smith."

"Mr. and Mrs. Smith, if you prefer."

"Are you suggesting that we're married? Because that's an even further cry from honesty than that ship belonging to either of us."

"We are a bit married, Mate, if you choose to ignore the legal aspects."

She couldn't hold back a snort. "Well, still, you're hardly a Smith. You aren't an orphan, even if you may wish that you were."

Charlie reached out and picked up a small coin purse resting on the book keeper's podium, jingled it and put it in her pocket.

He asked, "What makes you think I wish that?"

"I've known you for ten years, Jack, and I've never seen nor heard of your parents."

"Be thankful for that fact."

They made the stone streets and line of shops, and both turned to look south toward the fort on the mountainside, where some sort of to-do was going on. Charlie could see men in red coats standing sentry on the walls, and could hear trumpets.

"That looks like fun," she mused, "I think I'll attend."

"There is the small matter of looking for a ship," he intoned.

"You find us a ship. I want to attend a ceremony."

She had turned the opposite way, heading through town. He called out, "I have only a few shillings, how am I supposed to turn a few coins into a ship?"

She spun, and, still walking away, said, "Last time I turned no-shillings into a boat, I'm sure you'll figure something out."

"And how will you find me later?"

Charlie stopped in place. "Are you planning on keeping modest?"

"Not particularly."

"Well then I expect there shall be plenty of commotion when the time comes to leave, and I'll just follow the gunshots."

He smiled, showing a few gold teeth as he turned away and started toward where the navy vessels were docked, further up the harbor.

Charlie, however, went to find homes and went into the first empty one she found. There she found a dress, a bit tight without the benefit of a strangling corset, and a pair of gloves which would hide the brand on her wrist, and took them without bother. The red dress was in shabby shape, but it at least had the same style as what would be warn by other ladies at the affair. She left her own clothing in an alley among old crates and headed off, catching her reflection in glass as she passed a tavern. She looked enough like a regular lady, except that she had a stronger body and brown hair chopped short in the back but let grow and dangle over her eyes in the front. You wouldn't catch high-society ladies with short hair; only the poor had to sell their locks to wig makers, or couldn't be bothered to let it grow.

She walked up the sloping road to the fortress, where guards stood outside the stone pillared entrance but let her through without incident. She hoped no one would notice that she still wore her dirty boots beneath the dress. All around were dainty women who wore bonnets and held umbrellas. Servants bringing around trays of food and drink, which she helped herself to. She meandered close enough to a group of gathered soldiers to hear them discussing 'the new Commodore' and put the pieces together with the ceremony.

She spotted the newly promoted man, a tall fellow with an unoffensive but not particularly interesting face in dark blue coat and hat. He wore the whitest pants she had ever seen, along with a gleaming, beautiful sword at his hip.

And she suddenly couldn't resist getting closer, just to get a better look at that sword.

He was undeterred by the crowd, making his way up to the outer wall which overlooked the see, by where the town's bell hung. She caught him before he made the steps to the upper level.

"Congratulations, Commodore."

He put on a smile but was clearly not happy about being distracted from the pretty girl standing at the fort's stone railing, fanning herself. "Thank you, Miss..."

She knew he wanted her to volunteer a name, but she did not, and straightened under his gaze as he looked her over. "Your sword," she said, bluntly, "was it sent away for?"

His brow raised. "No, actually. The blacksmith here in Port Royal does wonderful work. A man named Brown."

"Brown. Yes. Must be quite old to have acquired such skill. Surely he has a son or... young apprentice to whom he's passed on his trade, ay?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," the Commodore said. He was still watching her with clever eyes. "You're not supposed to be here, are you?"

Charlie, surprised by the playfulness in his voice, stammered, "W- well... that would be a matter of perspective."

She sensed she would not get much more, certainly not a name, without digging herself too deep. She would have to go and see for herself, and nodded her appreciation to the Commodore, beginning to turn away.

"Why do you ask about my sword?" he inquired, seemingly unable to help himself, and added with a bit of a laugh, "Are you in the market for one?"

She looked back, and only smiled at him before turning and beginning to head for the exit. Norrington watched with intrigue, then dislodged himself from the young woman and made to head for Elizabeth Swann, standing at the fort's edge.

Charlie couldn't help but to take one last look, and she watched the pretty girl the Commodore spoke to, feeling a bit envious. The girl was beautiful. More beautiful than her, more beautiful than she would be even if she were a lord's daughter, with long, pretty hair and a pretty dress.

She set out to return the silly dress and change back to her pants and white shirt and vest. She felt naked without her sword, and decided when she strapped it back on that it could use a sharpening from the blacksmith; partly because it was dull, partly on account of a debt she owed an old pirate she'd sailed with on the Black Pearl years ago.


	2. Chapter 2

Charlie prowled up and down the streets of Port Royal for a few minutes, finally seeing the sign of a hammer on an anvil and turning without delay into the dark shop. In the dim glow from a fireplace, she made out a figure slumped in a chair, snoring away, a donkey hooked up to a wooden roundabout of some kind, and, bowed over an anvil with a glowing orange piece of metal, the blacksmith.

He was slender and firm looking, with dark strands of hair falling over his face that shifted as he looked up at her and she could make out the squareness of his face. Hollow cheeks, angles which converged at the chin, and a flat nose. If it weren't for the handsome mustache, he would look just like his father, and Charlie knew without asking his name what it was.

"Good morning," he said, lowering his hammer. "Can I help you?"

"I hear this establishment crafts a fine sword. I wanted to judge that for myself."

She traced a finger over one of the hilts secured on the wooden wheel, also patting the donkey on the head as she walked by and moved to stand in the proximity of William Turner.

"Are you in the market?" he asked, eying the rusty rapier which hung at her side.

"Not exactly. But these are wonderful blades."

"Thank you. Is there something I can do for you, Miss? If you're not looking to buy a sword?"

She thought for a moment, then drew, causing him to step back wearily. "Oh-." She chuckled. "Calm yourself, Mr. Turner. I was just thinking that my blade could use a sharpening." She tossed it in a loop, catching the blade and offering the hilt to him. "I could pay you, of course."

"Why do you need me to sharpen your blade? Don't you know how? _Pirate_?" He adjusted his grip and suddenly had the sword pointed at her. "I didn't tell you my name, you already knew it; you came looking for me. Who are you?"

Charlie found herself smiling. "My name, William, is Charlie. And I am a pirate, you guessed that correctly."

"How do you know me?"

"I don't. I did, however, know many years ago a man by the same name and... nearly the same face, too. And though the man was not fond of me, I owe him a debt. There's no need for that, Boy." She nodded to the sword.

He lowered it, though kept his grip. "Boy? I'd guess that you're my elder by no more than a few years."

"Well _I _would guess that I've seen much more of the world, so yes, you are a boy."

Will rolled his eyes. "You knew my father? You know what became of him?"

"Aye. And I'm guessing that you don't."

"No. I searched for him for years. I came here from England after my mother died. Looking."

Charlie nodded. "Terribly sorry to be the one to tell you, but your father is dead. About eleven years ago."

Will's face turned stony, but his eyes took on a shimmer as he looked over to his master, Brown, still snoring away, then to the fire.

"He died honest," she said, "You should know that. He died honest and he died at sea, there's no better way for our kind to go."

"Your kind?"

She blinked. "Sea-fairing folk."

"My father did love the sea, that's why he chose to be a sailor." He continued to stare into the fire, only remembering she was there a minute later. "What debt is it that you owed my father?"

"Bill threw in with me and mine on occasion. Can't explain it any better than that. I wanted to find you, see that you were okay, express my gratitude. I've been checking every port I came in at for the better part of eight years. Heard him say once that you were apprenticed to a blacksmith, something from one of your letters. He loved getting your letters. All I could do was hope you stuck with it, and that I'd find you someday."

"Well you can consider your debt settled. Thank you."

The distant crack of gunshots took Will by surprise. Charlie, however, simply rolled her eyes and murmured, "So predictable."

"Friend of yours?"

She nodded with a small smile.

"Do they require your assistance?" Will asked, a bit uneasily.

"Not at all."

He set to sharpening the sword with a wet stone and occasionally glancing up at her. They shared an easy silence for a few minutes. The gunshots died out and Will asked, "Aren't you worried about your friend?"

"No. He's well used to that sort of situation."

The door banged open a second later and a boy crashed in. Charlie recognized him as the same little boy from the docks, who had been with the book keeper. He cried excitedly, "There's a pirate in town! Will, there's a pirate!"

Will still looked uneasy. He glanced at Charlie, then back to the boy. "I suppose that's what the gunshots were, then."

"Yeah! He was surrounded and handcuffed and he still got away! Norrington's got every man out looking!"

"How did they catch him?" Will asked, almost amused.

"He saved the governor's daughter from drowning-."

"-Miss Swann? Is she alright?"

"-Yeah! He saved her! But Norrington saw he was a pirate, and arrested him, the cod piece!"

"The commodore was just doing his job. How did the pirate escape?"

"He took the governor's daughter -Miss Swann, that is- hostage! Then he went flying through the air on a rope and crashed a cannon through the dock and there were men shooting at him the whole time!"

"Elizabeth-. Miss Swann, she's alright?"

"Just a bit shaken, I expect. I saw the whole thing, it was amazing!"

Will's eyes were hard as they turned to Charlie. She tipped her head in apology, wondering who Elizabeth Swann was to Will Turner.

"I think you should leave."

"Alright-," she began to say, but he cut her off.

"Not you. Armand, go. And don't go looking for that pirate."

"Oh, Will-."

"I mean it."

The boy left sulkily. Will went back to sharpening her sword, but his face had turned dark. "I'll finish this for you, but then I expect that we won't cross paths again. I shouldn't have fooled myself for so long. You're a pirate. I don't know if I can believe a word you said."

"I suppose you're right," she said, if only because she didn't feel like arguing the nature of pirates with a blacksmith. "So who's the girl? Who's she to you, I mean?"

"It doesn't matter."

Will lifted the sword high to admire it, and though it was nothing special its edge had sharpened to a lethal point. He gave it back to her. "There, the job is done." She offered the purse of a few coins she'd taken from the bookkeeper at the docks, but he held up a hand. "I won't take your money just for that. You should be on your way."

"As you wish."

The door opened a moment later and slammed shut again, now with a panting Jack resting against it. Will straightened, on edge, while the two pirates frowned at each other.

"What are you doing here?" Charlie asked.

In response, Jack lifted his arms and shook them furiously, causing the cuffs and chain to jingle.

"Ah, they actually managed to cuff you?" She grinned. "You're losing your touch, Jack."

"Am I, now?" He sauntered closer, a bit unbalanced in his walk. "There're about a hundred of his majesty's finest out there looking for me who would disagree with you on that point." Jack's coal-lined eyes darted to the blacksmith. "Who's the boy?"

"Blacksmith," she answered.

"Is he, now?" Jack looked around, saw the wooden wheel, the donkey hitched to it, and hastened over. Giving the donkey a tap, he started it trotting, and the whole thing began to turn with a groan. He threw the chain up over one groove, which met with the conjoined teeth of the top wheel as it spun, and broke the chain. He looked very satisfied with himself, and started back toward Charlie, only to freeze when he got a better look at Will.

"You seem somewhat familiar, have I threatened you before?"

"I make a point of avoiding familiarity with pirates," Will said.

"Well then it would be a shame to put a black mark on your record, so if you'll excuse me-."

Will had reached around him and picked a sword off the rack, which wrapped around the wheel's pillar, jumped back and raised it to rest, sideways along the length of Jack's chest.

Jack froze. His eyes darted to Charlie. "A blacksmith you say?"

"A blacksmith."

A smile tugged at Jack's lips, and he took a step back, drawing his own sword. "Do you think this wise, boy? Crossing blades with a pirate?"

Will pointed his blade and Charlie noticed the graceful hold he had on the hilt. "You threatened Miss Swann."

Jack dragged his blade tauntingly along the length of Will's in a gesture which Charlie could only see as violently sensual. "Only a little."

Will led with a swing and they met four times, quickly, ending up high, then he pushed forward and swung again, causing Jack to skip backward and out of the way when the young blacksmith swiped across twice.

Jack was beginning to look intrigued, and stole another glance at Charlie. "A _blacksmith_?"

"A blacksmith," she assured, crossing her heart over twice with one finger.

He addressed Will again. "Excellent form, I'll give you that. But how's your footwork? If I step here-..."

He crossed his legs slowly, and Will did the same, orienting his body in relation to Jack's so that they stood facing center. They met with another series of blows. Meanwhile Charlie realized they were settling in for a long one and sat on an anvil off to one side, crossing her arms.

"Very good. And now I step again."

They circled around each other and Will's blade arced high when Jack pressed him, neither lost ground or gave an opening; it was a masterful display of swordsmanship. They ended again in synchronization. Jack took a step and gave a lunge, which Will stopped with one stroke and did not concede any ground.

"Ta," Jack said, with a nod to show his respect of his opponent's skill. Will nodded back.

Jack turned and climbed the stone embankment up to the higher level of the room, making for the door. Charlie did not move from her seat on the anvil. Will looked at her with a bit of confusion, which she silently understood to mean, "That's it?"

In return she encouragingly gestured with her eyes toward the door. Will shook his head, not understanding, and she rolled her eyes. "Well? Go on, then."

He hefted his sword up, turned, and heaved it through the air so that it sink a good portion into the door's latch, not far from Jack's head. He stared at it, grabbed the wobbling hilt and tugged. Took it in both hands and pulled furiously. It didn't budge.

"That is a wonderful trick," he growled, turning. "Except once again, you are between me and my way out, and now, you have no weapon." He drew, crossing the room again.

Will looked around and grabbed the nearest thing, the red-hot fireplace poker which glowed at the tip. When they clashed it threw sparks into the air, and Jack tried to turn around the pillar but Will met him again. More sparks shot between them. Glancing around, Jack realized they were surrounded by hilts and swords.

Still swinging, he asked, "Who makes all these?"

"I do! And I practice with them-," Will ducked, "-three hours a day!"

"You need to find yourself a girl, Mate."

Will had lost his poker, and picked up two swords which he crossed to stop Jack's from coming down on him. With their bodies close, they paused as Jack leaned in.

"-Or! Perhaps the reason you practice three hours a day is that you've already found them, and are otherwise incapable of wooing said strumpet." His dark eyes flitted downward. "You're not a eunuch, are you?"

"I practice three hours a day so that when I meet a pirate... I can kill it!"

"Ah!" Jack breathed with a delighted grin, and separated them so that they could meet with several more blows. Will had turned fierce in his strikes, making Jack back up onto the two-wheeled, slanted wooden cart behind him.

Their combined weight shifted it enough so that it's edge fell from the upper level and threw them both off balance. They wobbled, continuously shifting their footing to keep the cart from toppling, and started banging away at each other again.

Jack's chain caught one of Will's swords, causing them both to pause, then the blacksmith seized his chance and thrust the blade up word into one of the crossing beams overhead. Jack, now one-handed, lashed out wildly. He pressed a foot down on a loose board, upending young Mr. Turner, then grasped the sword which held him and lifted off the ground in an attempt to dislodge it.

Will stepped back onto the ramp just as the sword came free and Jack fell, coming down hard and sending the blacksmith up into the air, so that he caught a beam and pulled himself up. Charlie bit back a laugh.

When Jack found his feet again, he looked triumphant, and foolishly stepped onto the ramp. Over his head, Will cut a rope securing a net full of crates. It fell and hit the ramp just right, to send Jack up into the beams. So he scowled, climbed up, and drew his sword again. They jumped back and forth over the beams, with Mr. Turner refusing to let Jack by him. They met in the middle, clashed high, then low off to one side, then the other, and with a strong downward swipe, Will knocked Jack's blade out of his hand.

Jack turned and jumped down, retrieving his sword and heading for the door, but Will raced after him.

He made the fire and took hold of a brown sack there, turning and unleashing a gust of sand at the blacksmith, then kicking his sword out of his hand and jumping down to face him, where Jack drew his pistol.

Mr. Turner had found a nearby piece of shaped metal and raised it, and froze. "You cheated," he murmured, seeming genuinely offended as he stared down the barrel of the gun.

"Pirate," Jack reminded the blacksmith.

A bang against the door and the sound of a man shouting orders made Charlie jump up from her seat on the anvil.

"Move away," Jack said.

"No!" Will called.

"Please move?"

"No. I cannot just step aside and let you escape."

"William," Charlie said, though she kept her distance and eyed the other door where soldiers were trying to break in. "It's been fun but truly, it is time for us to go."

He looked at her, with seemingly apologetic eyes, and still he stood firmly in front of the back door, with the loose fitted boards which let in afternoon light.

"This shot," Jack hissed, pulling back the hammer, "was not meant for you."

The breaking of glass as a bottle came down over his head made Charlie jump. Jack fell forward and did not move. She looked between the still-drunk appearing Brown and Will, glanced frantically from one door to the other just as Commodore Norrington's men broke down the front entrance and stormed in, guns at the ready. Some moved immediately to surround Jack, while a few locked her in their sights and she held up her hands, backing away.

Norrington took no notice as he trotted up to Jack, laying face-down on the floor of the shop.

"Well done Mr. Brown. You've just assisted in the capture of a dangerous fugitive."

"Just doing my civic duty," Brown slurred.

"I trust you'll remember this as the day that Captain Jack Sparrow _almost _escaped. Take him away." Norrington began to turn for the door, but he froze when he noticed Charlie. She stared back at him without showing any emotion, ready to let him make what assumptions might be made about a woman dressed like she was dressed, with short hair and a sword at her waist, in the company of Jack Sparrow.

"What do we have here?" he asked aloud, seemingly to himself and seemingly disheartened.

The men looked confused, and glanced amongst each other and to their commander. "Sir?"

"Sir?" Charlie mimicked and her eyes were taunting even as she sensed the gravity of the situation; she and Jack both behind bars did not bode well. If one were out they'd save the other but both jailed? That had never happened before. And though she and Jack had friends all over and a fair bit of luck on their sides, she hated feeling helpless more than anything in the world; she did not want to wait behind bars for something to conjure from the very air to swoop in and save them from the gallows.

Norrington's tongue darted out to lick his lips. He opened his mouth but did not manage words.

"She's a customer," Will cut in suddenly, tossing aside the bit of metal he'd meant to go on fighting Jack with. He looked hot-tempered and shameful as he stared at the ground and added, "She came in looking at swords and was browsing the merchandise when the pirate found his way inside. She is an innocent bystander, no more."

"Of course. Weapons off of her, men. Take Mr. Sparrow to the fort."


End file.
